


Motivation

by cymyguy



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Genderswap, Neighbors, Professional athletes, STRIPPER KAGEYAMA, pansexual hinata, waitress hinata
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-19 09:27:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22008778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cymyguy/pseuds/cymyguy
Summary: Hinata didn't know her neighbor had a secret. Hinata didn't even know she had a neighbor, at first.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio
Comments: 10
Kudos: 151





	Motivation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bokeae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bokeae/gifts).



For a long time Hinata was convinced that no one lived in the apartment across the hall. Firstly, because it wasn’t humanly possible for someone to live so quiet a life that Hinata and her roommate might go weeks without hearing so much as the sound of the door. Secondly, because what were the odds that neither of them had ever crossed paths with this neighbor? Hinata knows all of their neighbors and considers herself a friend to at least half of them. She was convinced that no one lived across the hall.

But to be sure, she’s made a habit of checking things out whenever she thinks she hears something down on their end of the small building. Her snooping has been semi-rewarded by glimpses and near-sightings of long legs, and dark hair sweeping around corners. Never enough to justify speaking to this person, who is always in or out too fast, and never seems to drop or fumble or forget something and return to the apartment. At least, not until Hinata finds the kneepad.

She’s coming in late after work when her eyes light on it, fallen in the very center of the hallway, just before their doors. She picks it up, mouth falling open a little as the brand logo confirms it to be a volleyball kneepad. It’s white, and she wears black, so it can’t be something Hinata left behind. And if anybody else on this floor played volleyball, she’s sure she would know about it.

Unless it were the elusive person across the hall.

It’s too late to be knocking on doors now, so she presses the kneepad to her chest and carries it inside with her. Her heart picks up a little, helplessly, at the prospect of having a fellow athlete near. A potential new friend, someone who will maybe not tune her out when she gets going about volleyball. Hinata pauses with her door pushed open and smiles over her shoulder. Her smile grows wider, and a shiver of excitement zips up her spine. Then she closes the door, scolding herself in a whisper. Her sister would tell her to act like the adult, and she needs to make friends like an adult.

The next day is her rest day, so Hinata sits at her kitchen table long after yoga and breakfast, playing games on her phone and casually consuming volleyball videos. When she hears a sound late in the morning she flies to the door to peep through the hole. There is a tall, dark-haired woman standing in the hall.

Hinata smooshes her face to the door to strain through the peephole, blinking rapidly. She’s baffled and unsettled by what she sees. The woman, her _neighbor_ , looks beautiful. Like Hinata’s not looking into a dim hallway, but into another realm, some golden age ruled by this frightfully tall, proud queen, who stuns her subjects to silence without having to say a word. Except she’s wearing sweatpants and a tucked-in t-shirt with the name of a milk brand written on it.

Hinata needs to just go out there and introduce herself, and it will be fine. No! What’s she talking about, the kneepad is the first order of business. She needs to return it. The neighbor takes her hand away from her chin and reaches for her door. Hinata bolts back to snatch the kneepad from a chair, then whips her door open.

“Good morning!”

The woman starts, turning with a jerk of her shoulder, fists balling at her sides. She slowly relaxes her shoulders, but her frown doesn’t relax.

“Oh, I’m sorry—” Hinata giggles— “Did I scare you?”

It takes a moment, and then the woman’s frown deepens. Hinata holds up the kneepad.

“Were you looking for this? I mean, does it belong to you? I found it out here last night.”

The woman just looks at her.

“We haven’t met, have we? I’m Hinata Shouyou.”

She looks even harder. Is she actually _scowling_ at Hinata? Then Neighbor-kun takes a step forward, drawing Hinata’s eyes to her sleek white athletic shoes, trimmed with bright orange and pink. Stars pop in her eyes and she almost makes an envious sound effect.

“Give me my kneepad.”

Hinata sucks a big whoosh of breath through her gaping smile.

“So you are a volleyball player! I play too, I have since middle school. How long have you played? You’re really, really hwaaaaah tall, what position are you?”

The woman keeps her scowl and takes another step, reaching for the kneepad, but Hinata instinctively pulls it back.

“Hey!”

Hinata looks wide-eyed at her, the angry tone reverberating through her body as something cold sinks in her stomach.

“But—I—We’re neighbors. I thought we could—”

Without warning the woman steps up and grabs her shoulder, reaching with the other hand to wrestle the kneepad away from Hinata, who squawks and yelps in shock. She takes her kneepad across the hall and shuts her door. Hinata gapes.

When she finally finds her way back into her apartment, she slumps over on the couch, cheeks puffing in a pout. That probably would have been more successful if she wasn’t so glaringly attracted to the woman. And Hinata knows she should be giving herself stern warnings against her attraction, to avoid unnecessary amounts of disappointment in the likely event that the woman is straight. At least her roommate is on a two-week trip and not here to tease her.

The woman probably has a boyfriend. At the very least, she deserves better than to be a wet dream of some creepy neighbor’s. Shouyou’s just going to forget about her.

While Hinata does consider herself a volleyball player by profession, she’s not _currently_ getting paid to play, so she works evening shifts at a diner. It’s an ordinary diner, with an unordinary physical situation. They share half the building with what most people would call a strip club. The club is the reason they’re open until 2 am, but it is not the reason Hinata wanted to work at this diner. She’s never been there, ever. Mostly because she’s a busy person and doesn’t do late nights, but the point is, she doesn’t work at this diner so she can stop off for a peep show after a long day.

She has met some of the dancers, though. They come in after work sometimes, and Hinata usually works an evening shift, so she’s waited on them. They’re really nice, for the most part, especially the ladies, and they seem to like her. She’s not sure why, honestly, because she can hardly talk properly to them, all stammers and blushes and awkwardly-timed giggles. They tip her very well, which is only more flustering.

Working late means that on weekdays she’ll sometimes go a few hours with no customers, but tonight she gets lucky, with one. Her neighbor, _the_ neighbor, walks into the diner at a quarter to midnight, and though Hinata knocks an armful of plastic cups off a cart, she doesn’t look her way. She chooses a booth by a window. As soon as her butt hits the seat, Hinata sprints over with a menu, as if there’s someone who will get to her first.

“Hi.”

Neighbor-kun looks up, and starts.

“Why are you here?”

Her eyes narrow at Hinata until she’s practically squinting.

“I work here,” Hinata smiles. “No need to ask why you’re here.” She sets down the menu. “Can I bring you a water to start, or do you know what you’d like to drink?”

Neighbor-kun is staring at the table now. Hinata tries to tighten her apron at the waist without her noticing, but when she’s ready for Neighbor-kun to look up again, she still doesn’t. Her hair is wet, her fringe parted to show her forehead. She’s wearing a black Nike tracksuit and gold sneakers that make Hinata even more jealous than last time. Holy hell, her neighbor is beautiful. She could be on every magazine, and fashion runway, and TV show—Her eyes flicker toward Hinata for a second, and she sees what a perfect dark blue they are, a smooth, even shade all the way around. Her cheeks are soft and pink, a freshness left by a recent shower, maybe? Hinata is about to lean down and smell her hair for shampoo, but thank goodness she suddenly remembers that she’s at work, and also that that is something a creepy pervert neighbor would totally do. She is not going to be a creepy pervert neighbor!

“C—Can I—get you water?”

“Milk,” Neighbor-kun says, quiet but decisive.

“Oh, okay. Sure! I’ll be right back!”

Hinata bursts into the kitchen and lunges toward the milk machine with a glass.

“What’s going on?” Narita, the night cook, asks her.

“Customer!”

“Well is it the prime minister or what? I heard you knocking things over.”

“It’s my neighbor!”

Hinata scoots back around the corner with the milk.

“Here you go.”

Then she stands there and just smiles at the woman. She’s so pretty, so round-faced and cute, and Hinata feels thrilled. Her default pout is blank and marginally grumpy, and Hinata is thrilled with her. When she starts to look embarrassed more than anything else, Hinata digs the notepad out of her apron, vowing to be more professional.

“Are you ready to order?”

Neighbor-kun sits up straighter. “Um—”

Her eyes are jumping furiously over the menu, which hasn’t been opened from the cover yet.

“Did you need another minute? I’ll wait. You can have as much of my time as you like.”

Neighbor-kun slowly raises her head, as Hinata’s smile slowly fades, and heat slowly radiates from her face. She steps away from the table.

“I’ll wait over here.”

Hinata goes into the back and collapses on top of the first thing she bangs into, resting her burning cheek against the cool metal surface.

“Did they leave?” Narita says.

“Nope, still deciding.”

Hinata is almost wishing that she would just go. She wants to talk to her so badly, and it’s obviously not meant to be, so if Neighbor-kun could just spare her from now on, Hinata could return to her normal everyday happiness.

In another minute she peeks around the corner. Her neighbor is still there, looking at the menu. Hinata tidies herself up again. When Neighbor-kun nods at the menu, Hinata takes this to mean a decision has been made, so she makes her way back over.

“All set?”

Neighbor-kun nods and slides the menu to the edge of the table. Hinata feels herself start to beam again. She orders a salad with extra spinach and every vegetable they have.

“And, can I have another milk, please?”

Hinata probably looks weird, biting her smile to keep it from getting any bigger, and her voice comes out a little shrill from a giggle.

“Of course!”

Neighbor-kun looks hard at the table again, and Hinata grimaces as she collects the menu.

“I’ll be right back with the milk, and your meal will be just a few minutes.”

Hinata does her the curtesy of staying in the back with Narita while he preps the food. But by the time it’s done she’s all wound up again about having an excuse to speak to the beautiful woman, so she rushes out with the food and a smile too wide to be anything but creepy. She serves Neighbor-kun her meal while rattling off their dessert special and how she can call her if she needs anything else or if something’s wrong. And after all that, she still doesn’t walk away from the table.

“Thank you for coming in, by the way. It gets lonely some nights. Especially when you can hear the music from next door. It always sounds like they’re having fun.”

Neighbor-kun’s head whips around to face the window. Hinata’s eyes go a little wide and she squints outside. It can get lonely, and a little creepy too, at this time. She doesn’t see anyone outside, and when Neighbor-kun continues to show the back of her head and nothing else, Hinata takes the hint and leaves her to her meal. She doesn’t even bother her with a customary check-in after everything has been tasted; Neighbor-kun may not look happy with things, but she’s eating with an intense focus. She catches Hinata watching once, and hunches over her bowl, as Hinata slinks back around the corner of the kitchen to sulk in embarrassment.

When Hinata checks and finds her second glass of milk empty, she ventures over to the booth.

“How did it taste?”

“Good.”

Hinata smiles as if she were the one who labored away over it. “Good. Are you interested in any desserts, or anything to go?”

“No.”

“I can cash you out whenever you’re ready.”

“Now, please. I want to go home.”

Hinata leads her up to the counter, where her neighbor pays silently.

“Thank you,” Hinata says, smiling one more time. The woman is already walking away.

“Thank you. Hinata.”

She bowls through the door, sending the bell banging against the glass, and is gone.

Hinata stays at the counter, her body warming like it’s wrapped in a fuzzy blanket. Neighbor-kun remembered her name. It came so carefully off her tongue, like it was important to get each syllable just right…

When she finally goes over to the table to clear it off, she finds a tip tucked between the two empty glasses. She reaches for the money, and a wad of thousand yen bills falls open in her hand. Hinata stares.

She counts through them, without even checking to see whether anyone is around, since she’s breaking a cardinal rule of waitressing. They add up to a thousand more than the cost of the meal. There was no reason at all for such a gesture; her neighbor was the only person there to be served, so of course there was no wait, and the food was fresh, and Hinata didn’t forget about her. Neighbor-kun didn’t even make any special requests for her to write down! Is she trying to say something about Hinata’s job? Is it about how she can afford to live in the same building? Is it about her clothes, or her lack of limited-edition sneakers?

Neighbor-kun was her last customer for the whole night, so when she leaves for the bus stop a little after one, her head is still spinning with questions. What has Neighbor-kun done to her? How is she going to sleep?!

She sleeps just fine, but the first thing she sees in the morning is the money sitting on her nightstand. And the first thing she does is march across the hall and knock on her neighbor’s door.

“Hello?” She knocks again. “Are you in there?”

No response.

“If you are, I’m telling you I’m not accepting this money you left at your table last night. It was totally unnecessary, and I even think you were out of line to do that! Since we are neighbors. I refuse to take it, so I’m gonna slip it under your door—” There still hasn’t been a response, she realizes, so she lowers her voice. “And you’ll find it later, I guess.”

She crouches down, but her attempt to push the money under the door is thwarted.

“Hey—”

She tries again, but something blocks her force, then returns it. She sees the end of a finger poke below the door.

“Hey!”

She shoves the money, and Neighbor-kun shoves it back.

“You take it back!”

“No!”

Hinata pounds on the door. “I’m not keeping this money!”

“I’m not taking it back!”

“Fine!” Hinata stands. “I’ll just leave it in the hallway, then.”

She shuts her door. A few seconds pass, and then she hears her neighbor’s door slam. She opens hers to see that the money is gone.

“Ah ha!”

Neighbor-kun has no answer.

Hinata’s whole day is brightened by this tiny triumph, and when she comes home from work, there is a small gift bag sitting in front of her door, as if to congratulate her.

“Wow!”

She digs past the paper and pulls out a big candle. It’s from the shop around the corner, the one that makes home décor and such from recycled materials. Everybody knows Hinata loves their candles. She opens the jar and inhales the “spiced vanilla” scent.

“Waah!”

It might be from Nakamura-san, because Hinata watched her cat earlier this week, but it could also be from Eiji-kun down the hall, because Hinata helped her bake for her work party last weekend—

Hinata whirls to face the door across from hers.

“Hey!”

These candles cost almost exactly as much as that woman tried to tip her!

“There’s no way that’s a coincidence!” Hinata barks out loud.

She steams for a few seconds.

“I’m definitely getting you something in return,” she says to the door, “So don’t think you’ve won yet! I’ll be back after work!”

She forgets about the gift as soon as she gets to work. Ukai, their manager, mumbles something about the holiday season. He thinks they could throw a few courses together as a gift to the club dancers tonight, since they are “moderately faithful” customers. Hinata all but riots at the mention of the club, which is normally forbidden inside the diner. Even the people preparing the food don’t seem to be as excited as her. How hard will she have to beg to get Ukai to let her deliver the gift?

“Yamaguchi. Take these over.”

“Yes sir.”

“And Hinata. Since you’re the only other woman working tonight—”

Hinata sparkles.

“You go with her.”

“Yes sir!”

“I told Tanaka-san to meet you at the door,” Ukai says. “She’ll take you to the dressing rooms and you can leave everything there. Do not go out on the floor with this stuff, or everyone’s going to start thinking they can have deliveries over there. Got it?”

“Got it.”

“Alright, put on your coats, and I’ll hold the door for you.”

Hinata takes her tray and follows Yamaguchi into the cold. They walk around the street side of the building.

“Have you ever been inside, Tadashi?”

“No. When would I have had an excuse to go into a place like this?”

“Why do you need an excuse? You’re bi, aren’t you?”

Her coworker sighs.

“Yeah, but I’m not bi and well off. That’s the kind of people they want coming to their club. You know, people who can afford to drink and tip.”

They meet two bouncers at the door; Hinata looks up at a gray-haired man who’s at least twice as tall as her.

“Um, hello,” Yamaguchi says.

“There you are!”

A woman with chopped blond hair lunges through the door and throws an arm around each of them, almost sending the trays to the ground.

“So the old crow wasn’t pulling my leg, the holidays really have warmed his heart a little.”

“Are you—Tanaka-san?” Yamaguchi says.

“Call me Saeko-nee-san.”

Hinata goes starry-eyed. Yamaguchi bumps her with her hip.

“They’ll be out in just a few,” the woman says to the bouncers, “Or you have permission to come in after them!”

She laughs and waves the servers inside.

The club is dark, but colorful. The bar is straight ahead of them, packed full by the looks of it.

“Wow!” Hinata shouts. “It’s so much louder than it seems from the restaurant.”

“Obviously,” is her coworker’s reply.

There are tables spread across a carpeted floor; Saeko leads them over a risen section of the floor that runs beside the main area, toward a dark hallway. Hinata keeps glancing at the sexily-clad people who are mingling on the floor, though she blushes with guilt. Are they some of the dancers? Oh, speaking of dancers, where’s the stage?

It’s right at the front, of course, lit by spotlights with a slightly blue tint. There are three female dancers with eye makeup so thick she can see it from here. They’re down to black bralettes, shiny black booty shorts and black, chunky-heeled boots that lace up over the ankle.

Hinata strays toward the edge of the riser as the ladies form a line, grabbing each other at the hips; the one on the end closest to her takes a step forward on one long, ripped leg and rolls her pelvis, bumping against the butt of the woman in front of her, and then the next woman does the same to the woman in front of her. When the dancer at the other end swings her crotch up into empty space and a few people in the crowd holler, Hinata swallows thickly down her dry throat. She feels bad for staring, but doesn’t really know how to stop, since she is definitely attracted to women, and has never seen something like this before.

A heavy fall of water douses the dancers from above. Shouyou gasps along with everyone else. The black shorts are now see-through, as if they’re made of plastic wrap, and what’s visible underneath, in addition to _muscles_ , are some very stringy black undergarments.

The ladies turn around, and Hinata is about to look away, but then they turn back to the crowd and drop to their hands and knees, simultaneously whipping their soaking hair out of their faces. The woman closest to her has longer hair than the other two, creating more of a slow-motion effect as it swings through the air and drops onto her back. It’s beautiful black hair. That, and something about her face, gives Hinata a strange feeling, like she’s seen her somewhere before. But there’s nothing familiar about the way she moves. Her knees slide through the puddled water as she spreads her legs, hands raking down her neck then her chest. She dives forward, sort of like the dives Hinata remembers doing during high school volleyball practice, except the woman lifts her chest, wet stomach coming into view, then the strings wrapping her hipbones, then wide thighs as she pulls herself up onto her knees. With a few swings and kicks of her boots the woman turns around, and she slaps the stage with her butt, sending a splash up from the puddle underneath her.

Hinata trips off the edge of the riser. She heaves the tray up over her head and manages to balance herself, blinking at the nearest table of surprised patrons. Her eyes start to gravitate back to the dancer—

“Shou!”

Yamaguchi is waving furiously.

“Come on!”

Saeko-nee-san leads them past the restrooms and around the corner of the hallway, where there are several doors; she knocks on the door at the end, once, then three more times in succession. The door is opened by a woman in an adult-rated bunny costume. Hinata freezes up as they are ushered into the dancers’ dressing room.

“Come on,” Yamaguchi whispers to her, but she sounds at least half as frazzled as Hinata.

They come inside with their trays. Saeko gestures to a table pushed to the side, then announces the arrival of food. There’s one other dancer in the room, sitting at a heavily decorated mirror doing her makeup. Hinata knows this is Oikawa; she’s served her a few times at the diner.

“Chibi-chan!”

She is covered in a silky robe, which spares Hinata half her blush as the woman approaches.

“Here for a little entertainment? I’ve got a few minutes, I think I could work in a quick freebie. But you’ll have to share me.”

She smiles between Hinata and her coworker.

“Th—Thank you very much,” Hinata squeaks.

“We’ll need to get back to work now,” says Yamaguchi.

The door at the far end of the room swings open. A security guard ushers in the three wet dancers. Hinata’s bulging eyes don’t make it past the first.

The long-haired woman quietly returns the high-fives of the other two as they chatter and giggle. She pushes her wet bangs away to the sides, and tucks some hair behind her ear with impossibly nimble-looking fingers. Her arms and legs are miles long. It seems to take an age to see down to the high-heeled boots. Her belly button is a shallow innie, her abs fade in their definition as they lead down, and the curves of muscle are sharp above and around her knees and her calves. Her nose is neither sharp nor soft, a delicate degree in between, and her mouth and cheeks are puffed in a small natural pout. She has no beauty marks; an unbroken color washes down her neck and into her bra. She reaches back and unhooks the band, releasing her chest, and leaves it hanging at her shoulders. Hinata drags her eyes again over the skin between her underboob and hip, to look at the three strings against her flexer muscle. She follows the strings down the crease of her thigh to the tiny crotch of the panties, then back around her hip and along her lower back. The woman accidentally turns, allowing Hinata to keep following, to where the strings plunge below her tailbone and disappear between her heavy, muscled, stretch-marked cheeks.

The woman accepts a towel from someone, then looks right over their shoulder, and suddenly Hinata is making eye contact. Blue eyes go round as moons at her. Hinata sucks in a huge breath.

“Neighbor-kun!”

There’s noise around them, but Hinata doesn’t make any sense of it. Her neighbor doesn’t say anything, only stares, lips parted. Someone grabs Hinata by the arm, and she tenses. The bouncers are throwing her out? No, but it’s not like that! She was just—

“Hinata, we’re going back.”

Yamaguchi drags her through the door and down the hallway. She trips along behind her and looks back, until they go around the corner and her neighbor is gone.

Kageyama likes to think that she’s the quietest, and thus most inconspicuous, tenant in the building. She slips in at an hour when most are probably asleep, doesn’t own a TV, uses headphones when she needs to listen to something, and never has guests at the apartment. In short, she does everything she can to make sure nobody knows where she lives, because her part-time job involves certain personal risks. She likes the job, but she doesn’t like people, and trusts them even less. So when she comes home tonight, she tiptoes, even though her sneakers don’t make any noise on the carpet, and glances at the door directly across from hers as she slips her key in, chest clenched a little tightly around her heart.

Nobody she works with knows where she lives, and nobody she lived near knew where she worked, until a few hours ago. Kageyama doesn’t know what to do but hope for the best, that her neighbor is disgusted by her and will be totally avoidant from now on. When she hears the door swing open behind her, her heart hammers against her ribcage and chills bubble in her stomach. She spins around and sees Hinata, and knows that she’s walked into a nightmare.

“Neighbor-kun! Why didn’t you tell me we work next door to each other? You came in to eat that day and you didn’t even say anything, when you probably just came from your job! Don’t you think it’s fate or something that we would live next door and work next to each other too—”

“You think it’s any of your fucking business where I work?”

Hinata’s wide eyes get wider. Does Kageyama really want to believe someone cute and bouncy and who was polite when she waited on her is going to become a stalker that ruins her life? She doesn’t, but she has to take every precaution. She steps into Hinata’s doorway and looks down at her, making her the threatened.

“It’s nobody’s business, and you better keep your fucking mouth shut about it, and stay the fuck away from me.”

Hinata blinks. “Wha—Wha—”

Kageyama’s tired, more than a little frightened, and frustrated that she has to do this, so she snaps.

“If you don’t leave me the hell alone I’m calling the fucking cops and getting a restraining order,” she says much too loudly, “I don’t care how puny and pathetic you are!”

“H—Hey, what did you call me?”

Kageyama slams her door and cranks the deadbolt down. It’s a bitter feeling, not being able to trust even a woman of her own age, one who smiles like a kid, with unintentionally bold and sexy hair, and who’s obsessed with sweet-scented candles and supposedly into volleyball. But Kageyama is awfully good at not trusting, among a small number of other things.

Hinata pouts whenever she thinks of her neighbor over the next few days. There’s never been animosity between her and a neighbor before, and it’s incredibly uncomfortable. She has no plans to try to alleviate her feelings, though, because her respect for the woman’s threats outweighs her unease. That woman was the scariest Hinata has ever been face to face with, and she’s had some pretty intense coaches. Which is why her initial reaction, upon seeing her neighbor at the gym a few days after the confrontation, is terror.

She is just coming in, a little early like always, for a practice match with her amateur team. The court they’re scheduled on hasn’t even fully cleared yet; Hinata tries to look uninterested while shooting long looks over her bent knee as she ties her shoes, trying to scope out everything she possibly can about these players. They’re not in plain numbered tank tops, but actual t-shirt jerseys with a set color scheme and their names on the back. Not a moment after it occurs to her that this might be a V-league team, Hinata sees her neighbor again.

The woman doesn’t notice her right away, busy talking with a coach or trainer, and Hinata has time for her panic to turn to a soul-disintegrating awe. That’s what it feels like. Neighbor-kun has the legs of a warrior goddess, but with the revelation that they are _volleyball warrior goddess_ legs, as evidenced by the white kneepads, ankle socks and court shoes, Hinata is quaking in the very depths of her pansexual athlete’s loins. Her white shirt is filled out perfectly by her shoulders. Her hair is tied back at the base of her neck and braided smoothly into a second tie. Black spandex shorts hold together her powerful cheeks. Her pursed lips crumple up a little in the corner as she listens. And her legs, her freaking legs are so freaking _long_ , skying up to her waist, not spindly but all curves of strength, the tiniest muscles flexing with the slightest readjustment in her stance.

The woman nods and gets a pat on the arm, then glances back toward the court, and Hinata freezes on the sideline like a rabbit in danger, as they make eye contact. Neighbor-kun’s eyes get huge, and something glints through them, before she turns and speeds in the opposite direction, down a hallway.

Hinata blinks, trips, and hustles after her. She enters the dim hallway, eyes struggling to adjust.

“Hey,” she calls into the dark, “Um—Hey, I just—”

She squawks as her arms are pinned to the wall at her sides. Neighbor-kun’s face looms above her.

“ _Why_ are you _here_.”

Hinata swallows. “Um—”

The woman releases her suddenly, but Hinata can feel the solidity of her body right in front of her.

“What the fuck are you doing here? How did you know I would be here? Did you follow me, or did you ask someone? Whoever you’re talking to, you better tell me right now, I swear.”

“I—I’m not—There’s no one! I—”

“Then what are you doing at this gym?”

“Hey, this is my gym! I should be asking why _you’re_ here!”

Neighbor-kun steps back. Hinata can see her clearly enough now to make out her expression.

“You’re lying,” she spits.

“I am not!”

The woman stares her down, her chest rising with heavy breaths. Hinata is starting to be concerned for her, more than anything else.

“Why are you at my gym?” Hinata says. “You’ve never been here before.”

She looks away, glances back, and looks away again. Hinata waits, but she won’t make an admission. Shouyou eyes her again, her upper arms and the fancy uniform, and the shorts baring her thighs, her kneepads and the calves bulging out around her shins, all the way to her shoes, which Mizuno just released this month in nine color combinations.

“You really—really do play volleyball…”

It may be that the world’s most beautiful volleyball player is standing in front of her, in all her sweaty glory.

“ _What_?”

“You look—” Hinata drops to her knees— “So good in kneepads.”

She puts her hands to the back of the pads and hugs the woman’s knees, pressing her cheek to one distressingly thick, warm thigh. It can’t be real, that the first person she ever saw strip teasing is now playing volleyball at her gym. Hinata is having some very twisted dreams since her roommate left.

The woman shoves her shoulders and Hinata sprawls onto her back with a wail.

“You’re lucky I don’t break your nose with my knee.”

Hinata flinches away from her legs, though she doesn’t move them. The woman glares down at her.

“Don’t touch me. Just because you know what I do that doesn’t give you permission to talk to me or look at me or touch me. Just because I do that willingly doesn’t mean you can treat me like your fucking fantasy all the time. I’m not.”

“I know that,” Hinata mumbles, blushing with shame because that’s exactly what she was doing. She gets to her feet. “I was just—surprised, to see you like—Um—To see you here, now—”

She ducks into a furious bow.

“I’m sorry for being disrespectful!”

“And for stalking me?”

“I am not doing that! I’m telling you it’s just a coincidence, this is the gym my team plays in all the time!”

Neighbor-kun folds her arms. “What team is that?”

“The Jinshu Jaguars. Amateur.” She points at the writing on the woman’s shoulder. “You’re really in the V-league?”

She doesn’t answer, so Hinata asks another question.

“You still have another job, even though you’re pro?”

She shrugs. “Shit’s expensive.”

A laugh busts out of Hinata, before she covers her mouth and blushes again.

“Um, yeah.”

Neighbor-kun is still giving her a hard look, so she steps farther away and tries to make herself appear even smaller.

“So why were you practicing here today?”

“Electrical work at our building.”

“Ah, I see. What position do you play?”

The woman looks her dead in the eye as she answers.

“Setter.”

A smile curls Hinata’s lips.

“Pf. Lame.”

Her eyes narrow. Hinata has never been looked at so hard in her life; Neighbor-kun’s eyes have solidified like blue gems. Hinata pokes a thumb to her chest.

“I’m a wing spiker.”

“I would destroy you at that position, even though I am a setter.”

“Hey! Y—Yeah right! I’m definitely going to get tryouts in the spring and then we’ll be in the same league, and we’ll see who destroys who!”

The woman steps closer, so that they’re almost toe to toe, and looks down.

“You really want to challenge me?”

How could she not challenge the volleyball goddess? It’s probably a once in a lifetime chance, a match set by fate itself. If there’s a surefire way to get to the top, that’s it.

“Of course!”

The woman scoffs very quietly and turns to walk away. Hinata sees the name across her back for the second time, and opens her mouth once more.

“So your name is—Kageyama?”

Neighbor-kun freezes. She turns slowly, and nods, even as she’s giving her another look. Hinata smiles.

“It’s nice to—to see you here. Have a good day!”

The same warm thrill tickles in her chest as she looks up at the woman.

Kageyama leaves, and Hinata goes back toward the courts, yelping and breaking into a run when she sees that one of her teammates has beaten her to the floor.

Kageyama has this neighbor. A woman. Cute woman. So cute it hurts, almost.

And Kageyama has this problem. She wants to like her. No, she probably already does like her. Hinata is cute, and she is friendly and warm-tempered. And she is nice, even to Kageyama, who doesn’t attract a lot of nice people. Which is why she finds herself extra defensive whenever she “runs into” this woman, because why would she want to be nice if she didn’t have something specific to gain by it? Wouldn’t the best way to get to Kageyama be posing as a mere friendly neighbor, until she has enough leverage over Tobio to really start terrorizing her?

Tobio has leverage of her own, though it’s not exactly of a kind to be useful for terrorizing. Hinata lives so _loudly_ , that though she wanted nothing more than to ignore her neighbor completely, she hasn’t been able to help learning things. Like the candles. Hinata chatted her roommate’s ear off about them one evening. Kageyama has known her favorite restaurant for months, even though it changes twice in one week sometimes. She knows what time on what day of the week Hinata calls her brother, and the things she always forgets to buy at the grocery store. She knew Hinata played a sport, too, and that she missed a tournament recently because her mother had a breakdown and made a stay at a psychiatric facility. She knows Hinata has lots of friends who come over, though they’re always gone by about 9 o’clock.

She had absolutely nothing against her neighbor before Hinata saw her in her place of work. She had avoided her and everyone else for safety reasons; she could never guess what person knew a person who might recognize her as a dancer. It’s best to live aloof. She’s heard too many and horrible stories about what’s happened to women in her field, the nightly objectification and jeering aside.

Kageyama just wants things to settle again. She’s shut the woman down enough to reasonably hope that’s what will happen. But when she gets back from the gym in the late afternoon, and doesn’t make a sound, and a head of orange still pokes into the hall, she’s forced to consider that Hinata may have a sixth sense dedicated to detecting her presence.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” Kageyama turns her shoulder as she slips her key into her door, willing herself not to look.

“Home from practice?”

Tobio picked a great time to be struggling with her key. She casts a glare over her shoulder instead of answering.

“Do you have to work your other job tonight?”

“No.”

“Oh!” Hinata hops into the hall. “Then would you like to come inside for some dinner? I just finished it. Oknomiyaki with curry and miso.”

Kageyama shakes her head curtly.

“But I still feel bad for what I did at the gym!” Hinata rubs at the back of her hair. “I know it was weird, and I was out of line, and it makes sense that you were freaked out that I was there since you didn’t know I play there. Sorry about all that. But—food! Lots! And you can have as much as you want, if you want.”

Kageyama considers. Whatever is wafting through Hinata’s open door smells good, not burned or anything. If she goes into her apartment she might be in danger, but she’s sure she can kick Hinata’s little orange ass if necessary. And if she finds anything remotely creepy inside, she’ll be able to justify all the hostility that she’s been on the verge of feeling bad about.

“Do you have milk?” she asks.

“Uhh—Actually, I just used the rest of it…”

Kageyama lets her door shut behind her. When she returns, carton in her hands, Hinata blinks out of a pout, then beams and backs into her own home, holding the door for Kageyama. She sets a place for her at the table.

“I just have to take this tray upstairs to Kasamatsu-san, because his husband just came home from the hospital this afternoon so I didn’t think he would have time to make a nice meal, and they’re probably both tired anyway. You can just help yourself to everything, and I’ll be right back. Please enjoy!”

Hinata picks up the tray, and everything slides toward the heavier end; Kageyama snatches three dishes before they can fall, then takes the tray from Hinata’s arms before she falls. How does she make a living as a table server?

“Um, maybe I’ll take two.”

She pulls another baking sheet out of a cupboard and unfolds another napkin to cover it. She fills both trays evenly, scoops one into each arm, then turns to face the door.

“Do you—need—help?” Kageyama says into the long silence. Hinata smiles over her shoulder.

“Yes please! Thank you Kageyama!”

They haul the food up to the next floor, to the apartment directly above Hinata’s. An old man opens when she knocks, and another old man greets her from the sofa.

“This is Kageyama-kun, she lives across from me.”

Then she brandishes her tray, and the men gush as they set the food on the table. Kasamatsu-san hugs her and pinches her cheeks, and when she goes over to the couch Hashimoto-san gives her the same treatment. Kageyama’s hand is clasped and patted.

“So thoughtful of you and Hinata-kun.”

Kageyama can’t find her voice to give Hinata the proper credit, but the redhead only grins as the other man thanks her and says it is nice to meet her. Then she scuttles back down to her apartment, smiling the whole way.

“I thought they might need some food. Thank you for your help, Kageyama.”

“I didn’t even do anything,” she mumbles.

Hinata ushers her back to the table, and they fill their plates.

“How’s vollball Kagama?”

“Good.” She shovels more into her mouth.

“Now you ask me,” Hinata prompts.

“How’s volleyball?”

“Good.”

They eat in quiet for a few minutes.

“How’s your other job? If it’s okay to ask that,” Hinata says. “You don’t have to answer.”

Her ears are getting red. Kageyama considers, then takes a swig of milk, before speaking.

“My first solo is tomorrow.”

Hinata chokes.

“Really? So, you’ll dance alone?”

She frowns. “That’s what a solo is.”

“Well I—I was just saying! You’ve never had a solo before?”

“No. Usually only guest stars do solos. And if they put any into our rotation, they normally give them to Oikawa-san.”

“Oikawa? I’ve met her,” Hinata says. “She’s really tall. And she has pretty hair.”

Kageyama clucks her tongue and goes on eating.

“Are you nervous? To have a solo?”

“No.”

“What dance are you going to do?”

“They drew it up for Oikawa,” she says. “But she decided on another, and they gave this one to me because I’ve been telling them I wanted to do a solo. I don’t like it, though.”

“You don’t like it? Why not?”

“It’s too happy.”

“Too happy?”

Hinata bursts out laughing. Kageyama scowls, then glares, but she doesn’t stop laughing.

“What’s wrong with happy, Kageyama? Just because you’re so grumpy all the time? Are you _afraid_ of smiling or something?”

“No! I don’t want to do something they made for Oikawa!”

Kageyama uses her chopsticks angrily. Hinata dares to interrupt her.

“Why don’t you want to do it?”

Kageyama huffs.

“We’re not the same. They gave me a song meant for her because they want me to be more like her, but I don’t need to be like her to be a good dancer. I’m already a good dancer.”

“You are a good dancer.” Hinata taps her chin. “But won’t learning new things make you better?”

“My boss already told me that.”

“You know how Oikawa would do the dance, right? But you don’t have to do it that way. If you just think about it as if it were meant for you, then you can do it the way Kageyama would do it.”

Kageyama looks at her for a moment.

“Stop giving me advice,” she says, going back to the meal. “You’re not my grandmother.”

“Friends can give friendly advice,” she crows, grabbing for the next pancake Kageyama was after. They throw a few elbows and insults, and end up in a milk-drinking contest which Kageyama wins handily.

“What time are you going to do your solo?” Hinata asks before she leaves the apartment.

Kageyama should be cautious, considering that Hinata stalks her. But Hinata also makes food for people coming home from the hospital, and watches all their neighbors’ cats for them, and rides the bus with her friends just so they won’t have to ride alone.

“Eleven-thirty,” Kageyama says.

“Maybe I could—Maybe during my break, I can—” She rubs at her hair as her ears get red again. “Maybe I can come see your first solo.”

“As long as you pay the admission. And a tip.”

Hinata lights up.

“Okay! I’ll see you tomorrow, Kageyama!”

Kageyama crosses the hall with a little smirk on her lips. As the back of her neck heats up, it gets a little squirmy at the corners of her mouth, until she covers it with her hand, pink under her fingers.

Hinata slams the punch out button and peels out of the diner, skating with tiny steps across an icy patch on the sidewalk. She has to wait behind a few other people to get into the club, which is pretty well packed on this Friday night. There’s no one on the stage, so she hopes Kageyama’s about to come out.

Then the front of the club blackens, just for a few seconds, and when the bright lights from the stage and overhead come on, Kageyama is there, her back to the crowd. Hinata darts between tables to get closer. Her hair is pulled high and sleek, ponytail streaming down her back. She wears shiny black pants and a black sleeveless top, and high-top black sneakers with purple soles. The sneakers make Hinata smile, thinking of the Kageyama she knows as her neighbor. This one’s only a little different, but the differences are distinct.

The music starts, boppy and bright, and Kageyama looks over her bare, sexy shoulder, and Hinata would already have her money’s worth if the routine stopped right there. When the bass drops in Kageyama turns to face the crowd, and there’s clapping, that Hinata eagerly contributes to. Kageyama flaunts her shoulders for a few beats, the loose bottom of her shirt riding up as she moves. Then she turns back around and sinks to her knees, spreading them slowly and stretching the shiny pants, which have a zipper running right down the middle. Hinata gets dizzy for a second, and when her head clears Kageyama has faced the crowd again, slipping the last button loose in the front of her tank top and letting it pop away from her chest. The crowd erupts.

Kageyama shakes off the top and crawls closer, breasts cupped by a super cute lacy bra, light purple with just a tint of pink to it. She drops her forearms to the stage and rests her chin on her folded hands as she holds her butt up behind her and twerks. She looks so bored that Hinata almost laughs. Kageyama curls one leg up behind her and flips over her shoulder, returning to her knees and falling back on one hand as the other goes to the zipper at the top of her pants. Shouts jump out from around Hinata.

“G—Go,” she chirps, trying to be a good and attentive patron. Kageyama peels the zipper down.

The lace matches the bra, rising low under her hip bones. She pulls through her knees to bring her pelvis out toward the crowd.  
“Waah!”

Hinata almost covers her eyes, but then she would have missed it when Kageyama plants her feet and uses that outstanding core strength to pull the rest of herself off the floor, running her hands up her thighs as they work. She pushes the pants just a little from her hips and the audience calls out her teasing, but Kageyama turns her back carelessly. She lifts her arms; is _setting_ how you get muscle like that around your shoulder blades? Kageyama works her knees down toward the stage, one then the other, swinging her butt into each drop until she’s on her knees in near splits. She twerks, and continues to do so as she reaches around and unzips her pants in the back. The two halves flop over to reveal more purple lace, unlined, peeping the pale of Kageyama’s skin.

The song wouldn’t seem to fit Kageyama, but Hinata thinks she’s moving a little looser this time. For it being her first solo, she’s definitely not tense, otherwise everything wouldn’t be jiggling. Hinata gulps, and focuses on the choreography, imagining that Kageyama does it exactly, precisely the way it was taught. She goes down on the stage, lying on her back so that the spectators can see the length of her. She lifts her hips high and reaches for the zipper at her ankle.

“YES—” Hinata clenches her fists in front of her. She’s ready to see that flex run all the way up, if Kageyama would just pull the zipper faster—

Underneath the pants is more flowery purple lace, hugging her skin past the calf and the knee and the bottom of her quad, until the zipper pops out at the waistband and the pants split into two halves, the top slipping between her legs to reveal the garter belt holding the tights to the lacy thong. Kageyama plants her arms next to her and thrusts up to the fast beat. The crowd roars. Hinata screams indiscriminately.

Kageyama gets to her feet to continue dancing, and Hinata hasn’t even processed the feeling of being tricked before she snaps the garter straps open and the tights drop a few more centimeters over bare thigh. She turns her back to the crowd and bends at the waist, and the lace slips further. Hinata shuts her mouth tightly to trap in a sudden excess of saliva, and watches a pair of hands, that could no doubt set a volleyball onto the next island from here, reach around and press to the top of the lace. She slips it down her hamstrings, looking at the audience from over her shoulder. She slips it past the back of her knees, and then, for a split second, she smiles.

It breaks her face and the dance and the entire atmosphere. Everybody screams. Hinata sees it over and over like light spots against her eyelids. Kageyama’s tights are bunched around her ankles like dorky leg warmers that no one should look so hot in. She skips into some impressive footwork, and Hinata doubts that anybody could do this the way Kageyama does, so fluidly, adapting to the ultra-sexy goal without sacrificing a step. Her legs aren’t smooth, they’re sculpted by ever-changing dips and grooves. Hinata feels her face start to burn, but just as she tries to take a calming breath Kageyama spins, making tight circles with her booty. The purple thong squeezes around her, and the little bulge above and below the fabric is tantalizing as it shakes. Kageyama slips her finger behind the thong above one cheek and lets it snap against her skin. Hinata quakes, in her attempt to hold down her body’s reactions. She won’t be the creepy neighbor, she _won’t_ be the creepy neighbor—

Kageyama gets back on the floor again. She plants herself on her forearms and raises her entire lower body into the air, spreading her legs into a split above her. She holds it for only a second, but that’s still enough to see bare hips and bare legs and her entire ass right there, and all Hinata’s braincells fire the same signal at once. Activate creepy pervert neighbor mode.

“GO! YOU’RE SO HOT, YOU’RE SO SEXY KAGEYA—”

She hiccups and covers her mouth. But the place is rioting, so it’s not likely that anyone heard her say the name. Most of the spectators have pushed past the tables and crowded to the gate that blocks the stage, sweeping Hinata in with them.

She strains on her toes to keep a clear view of Kageyama, who reaches for her bra and pulls the purple cups right off. Her breasts are in plain view behind some lining. Elbows jostle Hinata as people dig into their wallets and purses. Hinata shoves her hand into her pocket and pulls out her money in a fist; if she was holding a year’s worth of paychecks she wouldn’t hesitate to throw them at her. Kageyama rolls her shoulder and dips, running a hand over her butt and down her thigh.

Then she smiles again, this one flashing her teeth and just tugging in the corners of her eyes, and the place roars. Kageyama’s fingers dance down her hip to tear away the covering between her legs, and just as she does, the club goes pitch black and the song ends. The purple glows in the dark at her chest, waist, and the bottoms of her shoes as she walks off the stage.

The lights come on amid all the cheers, and with a warning beep the gate clicks open, allowing everyone to file through and toss their tips onto the stage. Hinata pulls her arm back and chucks the wad of bills with a final scream. She feels like she just watched Japan win a world cup. And her neighbor was there. Mostly naked.

She should leave now.

Kageyama comes into the diner after work. Hinata spies her right away, but has drinks to deliver first, then is hailed by another table as she tries to make her way over. She gets some things to them, and finally reaches Kageyama.

“I’m sorry for the wait,” she rattles off, slipping a menu onto the table.

“I’ll have milk.”

Hinata cackles.

“Okay! Chocolate?”

She shakes her head.

“Boring. Are you going to order the same thing as last time too?”

“Yeah. It was good.”

“Pf.” She scribbles on her notepad. “How about some soup with it? An appetizer? Tempura?”

Kageyama frowns intently at the table. Hinata wants to laugh again, but it doesn’t really come out. Instead she smiles extra wide, hoping it’s a proud, motherly type of smile.

“Soup,” Kageyama says softly. “And maybe, since it’s my birthday—”

“It’s your birthday?! What? Today? Right now?”

She nods.

“Shouldn’t you be going out with your friends or something? Why did you come here for your birthday, don’t you want to celebrate?”

“I just want to eat,” she says. “Do you have meat buns? Curry flavor?”

“Curry buns?” Hinata gapes at her. “That’s what you want to make your birthday special?”

“Just one.”

“ _One_ curry bun? That’s all I can bring you? Not even any liquor? There’s probably drinks they can mix with milk.”

“I’ve tried all those,” Kageyama says. “It’s not the same.”

Hinata stares at her. Is this terribly sad or terribly endearing?

“Curry buns.”

“If you have any.”

“Well if we don’t I’m going to put some in the oven myself! I’ll bring the milk right away.”

They made a batch of curry buns today, thank goodness. She sets one out to warm as she checks on a few other tables, then delivers it with a brimming glass of milk.

“If it’s not warm in the center let me know and I’ll bring another one, okay?”

Her neighbor bites off half the bun.

“It’s warm,” she says through the mouthful.

“Oh. Good,” Hinata croaks.

By the time Kageyama is setting down her empty glass, Hinata is ready with another, grinning as she delivers it, along with the salad and soup.

“Anything else I can get you for now?”

“No. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome Kageyama.”

Hinata keeps stealing looks at her as she serves in other parts of the diner. Kageyama seems to catch her every time, but Shouyou wants to make sure she’s enjoying her meal, since it is her birthday. Once when they make eye contact Kageyama pulls her head, gesturing her over. Hinata flies across the restaurant.

“Yes? Did you need something?”

“I thought you needed something,” Kageyama says. “You keep looking at me.”

“I—No I don’t.”

“What are you looking at me for?” she grumps, scowling now.

“Well—You’re always catching my eye, I can’t help that.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re tall and beautiful!”

Kageyama raises an eyebrow. She looks at the table, going pink and tucking hair behind her ear.

“Are you always so honest?”

“No! Only when I’m nervous.”

They blush through the irritated silence.

“What would I need from you anyway?” Hinata says, genuinely curious now.

Kageyama shrugs. “Help? You almost dumped noodles into that old lady’s lap.”

“Wha—But I didn’t actually! I don’t need your help, Kageyama, I’m good at this job.”

“Parts of it.”

“He—ey…”

Kageyama’s cheeks bloom. She thinks Hinata’s good at parts of her job? Hinata doesn’t have to ask which parts, she’s already blushing like crazy even though she knows it was purely accidental on her neighbor’s part.

“I’ll come back if you need anything.”

She scoots away.

Kageyama finishes her meal and is just setting down her empty cup when she catches the redhead again, peering around the corner of the kitchen at her. Once they make eye contact, she backs out of sight. She reappears holding a small plate and another glass of milk. There is a slice of dessert on the plate. Kageyama watches her, stomach bubbling in contrast to the happy little flutter in her chest. When she’s sure that Hinata is heading for her table, she looks down, face warm. Hinata sets the plate in front of her.

“Everyone gets free pie on their birthday.”

She puts the milk next to the plate, then stacks the empty dishes in her arm. The pie has a creamy filling, swirled with white and brown.

“It has lots of dairy,” she tempts.

Kageyama hides her smile with her shoulder.

“Thank you.”

“My shift’s just about over,” Hinata says.

Kageyama looks at her.

“So I could—If you were going to head home, we could take the bus together.”

She nods. Hinata gives a little smile, averting her eyes.

“I’ll, um, I’ll be right back.”

Hinata goes to punch out, slip off her apron and pick up her coat. Then she bounces, nervously, back through the diner to Kageyama’s booth. She gives another small smile as she sits down across from her.

“How’s the pie?”

“Good,” Kageyama says.

As they lapse into a silence, Shouyou looks around and out the window. She squeezes her hands in her lap.

“Your—Your solo was really good.” She clears the squeak from her voice. “If you don’t mind me saying so. I mean good as in—um—Good. Like you’re good at—You’re really athletic and strong and you didn’t slip and fall which would probably happen for most people who tried to do that. And that purple color looked nice on you, too.”

“I liked the purple,” Kageyama says.

She cuts a sliver off the end of her pie and holds out the fork with a steady hand.

“Um—”

Kageyama holds it closer, until Hinata leans over the table and eats the bite off her fork.

“Um, thank you,” she mumbles as her tongue works through the heavy cream. She glances around the diner, going red even though no one’s looking this way.

“Did it turn you on?”

“What? No! No no, nothing happened, I didn’t do anything!” Hinata says. “I—I liked it but—not like that. Um, I mean not like in a weird way.”

Kageyama looks absolutely perplexed, and also a little put down.

“But you said it was good.”

“It was! You were totally—amazing!”

“So…” Kageyama takes a drink of milk and studies the table. “So you thought it was good, but it didn’t turn you on, and you didn’t—like it like that…So then, you’re not attracted to women?”

“What?”

Hinata gapes at her. She knows this is a trap of some kind. So all she says is:

“What?”

“You’re not attracted to—”

“I’m pan!” Hinata almost shouts. If she’s just admitting the truth there’s nothing creepy about that, right? Her friends can attest to it! She’ll go get Yamaguchi from the back!

“So you’re—just not attracted to me, then,” Kageyama says, frowning at her.

“What?” Hinata says again.

“It’s fine.” Her neighbor takes a much more aggressive bite of pie. “I don’t care, it’s none of my business.”

“Kageyama—” Hinata looks deep into her eyes, for the moment she lets her. “You—You don’t actually believe I’m not attracted to you, do you?”

“I—I never said that…”

“You just did say that.”

“I said I didn’t care if you were or not.”

“I thought you didn’t _want_ me to be attracted to you!”

“I never said that either!”

Hinata stands up in the booth. “You’re a professional volleyball player, of course I’m attracted to you!”

Kageyama blushes. Hinata blushes and drops back into her seat. They blush and take turns looking out the window.

“But it still didn’t turn you on,” Kageyama mumbles, “So I’ll work harder.”

Hinata covers her face with her hands.

“You don’t need to work harder. You don’t even have to do anything to—to make that happen.”

She takes a deep breath and looks at Kageyama, whose brows are raised.

“I just wasn’t focusing on that part of it. Well, trying…It was the only way I could keep it from happening.”

Slowly Kageyama nods. Hinata frowns at the table, tense and pink-faced, waiting for the teasing. But Kageyama’s voice goes low and soft around the edges.

“What were you focusing on?”

“Mostly your smiles,” Hinata says.

“Oh.” Kageyama’s entire face is covered in a springy shade of pink. “Those were an accident.”

“It was the most amazing accident I’ve ever seen!”

Hinata freezes. She slowly puts her hand over her mouth, staring over the edge of the table at the floor. When she dares to raise her eyes again, Kageyama is offering her another bite of pie. She takes another bite herself, then offers Hinata another, and another. Then she chugs her milk. This seems to cure her.

“I forgot what your given name is,” she says.

“Uh, it’s Shouyou.”

“Tobio. Is mine.”

“Oh. Really.” Hinata fiddles with her hands. “It’s pretty.”

Kageyama nods and eats the last bite of pie. She throws back the rest of her milk and licks away the mustache above her lip.

“Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah.” Hinata nods.

“I have to pay.”

Kageyama puts her hand in the pocket of her sweats. She pulls out a wad of small bills, counts some, and hands them across the table.

“There’s your tip back. Tonight we’re even.”

“Oh.” Hinata smiles. “Okay.”

They sit quietly at the bus stop on the corner. Kageyama must be tired, Hinata reasons, so there’s no need to talk. She only glances at her once. Kageyama is already looking.

Hinata’s cheeks are grabbed firmly between two hands. When she raises her eyes, Kageyama looks just as surprised as she feels. Then, her neighbor seems to make a decision, and leans down steadily and kisses her.

They blink at each other, blushing together. Hinata feels disoriented and warm, and obeys the instinct to cling to something she really, really wants. She puts her arms around Kageyama, squeezing her eyes shut. Lips press to hers, relaxing the furrow in her brow, sending a tremoring shock through her neck.

“Be my girlfriend Kageyama.”

It slips past her lips as soon as they’ve parted. Kageyama doesn’t answer, except by pulling her into another kiss.

“You be mine,” she says.

“I asked first…”

They kiss again.

“Fine. I’m your girlfriend now.”

Hinata’s blush is not soft and delicate; she feels like a cooked lobster. When she raises her eyes again, Kageyama gives a big old smirk.

“Well I’m glad,” Shouyou says quietly.

One of Kageyama’s hands moves around to the back of her head; heat swallows her belly and her mouth opens in surprise just before Kageyama covers it with hers. Everything’s wet, and she can feel Kageyama’s tongue against her lip though she doesn’t stick it inside. Hinata grunts, going up in flames of embarrassment again, but Kageyama’s palm presses harder to her head, and finally Hinata’s too goaded to stay back on her heels. She pulls Kageyama’s waist in as she pushes back against her chest. Her jaw gets moving a little too eagerly, as if she’s trying to bite her, but Kageyama responds with a slow drag of pressure that makes Hinata’s lungs seize up. She doesn’t give up, gasping into Kageyama’s mouth as her hands scrabble up and down her back. Their noses bump when Hinata turns the other direction, but they fit right back together, and Hinata lulls into soft, wet lips. When they stop again, it takes her several moments to blink out of her haze. Then all the blood she has in her body rushes into her face. What are these feelings, making her act that way in a public place? What would her mother think? Oh gosh, none of her coworkers can see them, can they?

“You get embarrassed easily,” Kageyama observes. “We’ll work on that.”

Hinata’s eyes go wide. Then she pouts at her lap.

“I don’t want to be your girlfriend.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ll _die_ ,” she whines.

Kageyama laughs. It’s low and snorty and makes her shoulders go up and down. And it makes Hinata hold her tighter. When she opens her eyes, Hinata kisses her again.


End file.
